Revanchism of the Force
by AlSmash
Summary: A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away... The Galactic Empire has fallen, and from the ashes the New Republic rises. Confronted by the threat of squabbling Imperial Warlords the galaxy at large remains ignorant of the external threat which has brought a ghost from the past and his heir to the attention of Grand Admiral Thrawn on an isolated planet called Earth.
1. Prologue

**Hey guys, yeah, I know this isn't Ice and Fire, or Rose of Geass, or even any of my other stories. But it's just been something that has been sitting with me for over a year and a half now, just languishing, never really intended to see the light of day because quite frankly, its Code Geass and Star Wars. It's like trying to trapezoid shaped peg in a round hole, it's a nightmare..**

 **But suddenly, I had a spark, and I needed a break from the frustration of just trying to churn out the next chapter of Infy or TRoG. I don't know if I'll ever update this, or it will just languish here kinda like True Avenger, Fated in Blood, or Scrubbed.**

 **Who knows, when I actually have time, and creative talent, I'll work up another chapter. I just know, that hey, its out there, and if someone wants to swipe it, meh, go ahead. Just let me know.**

Anyways, statement over, have fun lambasting this.

 **Prologue**

Pain.

That was the only word that could describe his existence at this moment: Pure, agonizing, undiluted pain. The kind of pain that you would wish upon no one, the type of pain that sang through every nerve, that vibrated through every bone, and consumed one's sanity.

That was his world that he came back into being to.

The last thing that he remembered was a world in which he had been at the mercy of his worst enemy as the monster attempted to rape his mind and rob him of what made him who he was.

But who he was did not matter to the pain that consumed everything, doing more to him than the man who was the ruler of all darkness had ever achieved.

It was in that world that he fell back into unconsciousness to offer him relief.

 **RotF**

The next time he awoke, it was to an existence where the pain was gone, instead replaced by warmth and comfort that was alien to him, at least in regard to his last few years. It took several minutes for him to process the fact that he was in a bed, the light flowing in through a window that provided natural luminescence for his surroundings and allowed him to take stock of where he was at.

Suffice to say, what he saw provided him no answers other than he was in someone's home, of that he was sure of. The question then became whether his furnishings were those of an enemy or an ally.

It was as he realized his clothing was sitting upon what appeared to be furniture made of wood and that he had several bandages around his chest that the door to his room opened and a woman stepped in, in her hands a tray with what appeared to be replacement bandages and a basin of water with a towel. It was as turned to face him that he found his gaze meeting violet.

"Oh," the woman said in an accent he did not recognize, "You're awake. That's good."

She then placed down the tray and walked back out, his curiosity piqued, he reached out with his senses latching onto her presence even as he heard the sound of running water. It was as she did that that he slowly brought his back against the headboard with a wince.

She then came back in with a glass of water and walked over to him, holding out the glass. His parched throat thanked her as he took the water and slowly drank it, letting the awkward silence hold court between the two of them before he finished his water.

"Thank you," he replied, watching as she tilted her head just slightly, obviously attempting to place his accent. Then she took the glass with a start as she realized she had been staring at him.

"Where am I," he asked, knowing that he had to have information. Information could be life or death in this circumstance, and as much as he accepted the fact that this woman seemed to be trying to help him, it did not discount the fact that she may not be alone.

"We're in my cabin," she responded, nonchalantly, before realizing the breadth of his question, her mouth opening to a silent 'o' before she spoke again, "I mean, we're about eighty kilometers northeast of Seattle."

 _Seattle,_ he thought to himself, trying to recall any place by that name but coming up blank. That could either be good or bad, but for now he would just work with what he had. So far the woman had shown no hostility toward him.

"How did I get here," he asked, hoping to divert her from his lack of knowledge.

"I don't know," she replied candidly, "I was out on a walk when I came across you. I brought you back to my cabin because it was the only place that you could get any treatment."

He then glanced back over his bandages, then back to her.

"You treated me," he asked.

"Do you see anyone else around here that could do this," she asked, looking somewhat peeved at his question.

"My apologies," he said.

"Do you have a name?"

That was a loaded question he knew, the fact that this woman did not seem to recognize him did not mean that his name would be recognizable when given. Which meant he had to come up with a name at least for now.

"It's Dash," he said after a moment's thought, a random thought given to him through the Force, "Dash Lamperouge."

"French, huh," she said, looking him over a moment, even as he wracked his mind for this 'French' race, "well then, I'm Hope. Hope Kingsley."

 **RotF**

He was lost, that was the only conclusion he could come to in the weeks that had passed since he had found himself in the care of Hope Kingsley. Hopelessly lost on a pre-hyperspace planet that was likely uncharted if it had a population of humans but no Republic or Sith presence. That meant that there would be no reuniting with Bastila and Vaner, nor was there any opportunity of stopping the Sith Emperor.

Then there was the fact that for lack of a better term, he was an alien in unfamiliar territory. Hope had been a great help, with some subtle usage of the Force he would guiltily admit, providing him with a decent overview of the world.

Right now, they were located in the Britannian Empire, an entity that controlled half of the world. For the most part it was interested in holding onto what it had as a result of a history filled with bloodshed and exodus. The current Emperor, a title he did not appreciate whatsoever, was a man who seemed to be content with the status quo, even if there were significant signs of unrest within his own family. There were two other major powers, but Hope didn't seem to have as detailed information on them outside of their governments and locations unfortunately.

Then there was Hope, a woman who had not understood at first, why she would be nurse him back to health, and why she would allow him to stay in her cabin without asking for anything in return.

It was then that he found out that she had been disowned by her family through no fault of her own. It had disgusted him when he heard about how her family was well off, but had decided that she was unneeded and a 'distraction' for her old brother, it was through no fault of her own, but they had been 'nice' enough to give her this cabin and told her to fend for herself, hoping that she would be unable to take care of herself and die.

Well, it was safe to say that they had vastly underestimated the resourcefulness of their daughter, as his now healed wounds would agree.

But now, he had to decide what to do now that he was healed. To be honest, he was conflicted in ways that made no sense to him, but it seemed the Force had it out for him to be so. He was on a new world that he had relatively no knowledge of, but he also felt a certain appeal to stay here at least awhile longer, that he had all the time in the world.

Sighing, he watched as his breath steamed the now frigid air, the seasons in this region having already shifted to one where the first snowfall had been just a few days ago. All around him, the woods were covered in white even as he experienced the silence and the life flowing around him through the Force. It was strange, how this world seemed to have the Force in such abundance, yet seemed to not have anyone that could tap into it from his few encounters with other people the few times he had accompanied Hope as she purchased supplies for her home. It was raw, potent, yet at the same time calming.

The sounds of boots crunching on the snow caused him to turn around and take in the woman who had saved him and daresay it, become someone who he could trust just by the fact that she had not asked the questions that he feared were on her mind, leaving him in peace.

But now...now, he didn't know what to do, one of the oddest feelings to have considering how decisive he had always been, it was as if the Force was urging him to stay…

"I don't know about you," she said, keeping her arms wrapped around her body to try and retain her body warmth, "but I don't think standing out here admiring the beauty is conducive for anyone's warmth."

He gave a small smile at the statement, enjoying Hope's snark, it was something that he had been amused by, how it reminded him somewhat of Bastila's attempts at levity in even the most serious of moments.

Still…

"It's quiet," he replied, before looking back to the woods, "at least before you showed up."

"Well excuse me," she huffed, walking up beside him, "unlike you, I can't stand still and do nothing."

It was with that statement that they both fell silent in the comfortable silence, dwelling upon their own thoughts even as he searched his own feelings and thoughts. They were like that for what seemed like an eternity before she spoke, ruining the enjoyable silence once again.

"So," she trailed off, "what are you going to do now that you have a clean bill of health?"

"Of which I should thank you for," was his response, "if it wasn't for your gentle touch, I doubt I would be here now."

"You know sucking up to me is not going to get you out of chopping the wood."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Good. But you haven't answered my question. Then again, it's not a question you can really answer...is it, Dash?"

He sighed again, realizing that now, of all times, she was finally going to ask the questions that had been on her mind. Of course, he had done nothing to allay her questions or concerns, but she had been respectful enough not to broach the subject. Now the question was would he answer her.

Standing there, weighing his options, he found his gaze drawn back to the woman whose violet eyes were locked upon him, not judging him, but still looking as if they sought to learn the secret of who he actually was. It was looking at those eyes that he decided that he at least owed her the truth, regardless of the consequences.

"How about we go inside," he finally said, motioning towards the cabin, "I have a feeling that what I have to say will take quite some time."

For a few moments, she stared at him, before she nodded with a smile that, while not gloating, acknowledged her victory. And then she led him back into the cabin.

 **RotF**

"She's beautiful," he said, keeping his voice soft so as to not awaken the baby that lay asleep in her crib, the urge to place the small newborn into his arms having to be fought actively in his mind as he simply chose to stare at her.

It had been four years since he had found himself on this planet, four years since he had met the woman that had somehow replaced Bastila, something he had tried to shield himself from ever doing, but Hope, Hope had a tenacious spirit that refused to give in, eventually tearing down the wall and worming her way into his heart.

And now they had together produced this child…

He found himself looking to the exhausted, yet satisfied woman who sat in the bed, small beads of sweat still on her brow from her labor to bring a new life into the world. Even now, he found himself lost in her beauty.

Who could believe that this woman took everything he had offered and accepted it without judgment even though some of it was so fantastical. And now look at them.

"We have to name her," she said, the tiredness readily evident in her voice.

"You know I'm horrible with names," he replied.

"Vaner," she laughed, shaking her head, her laugh soft yet with an effervescence that made him feel alive, "God, I doubt I could ever forget that."

He couldn't help it as he chuckled himself. He had to admit he wasn't exactly the most creative outside of the Force and Hope had always taken personal enjoyment in that fact.

"How about Marianne," she asked, causing him to think on the name.

"I like it," he said, looking back to the babe that was unaware of the discussion taking place between her parents, "Marianne Lamperouge."

 **RotF**

"You can't be doing this," Hope said, her voice carrying even though she tried to prevent it from doing so. It was hard to keep your voice down so your ten year old daughter would not hear her parents arguing, but that was what it was.

But it was happening regardless as he continued packing, double- and triple-checking that everything was in order.

"You can't be doing this," she repeated, as if trying to convince herself that this was not happening. After fourteen years together, it was hard for her to see the man that she had fallen in love with deciding that he needed to leave.

"Hope," he responded, "I have to. My visions are getting worse and if I don't…"

"To hell with your visions," she hissed, "what do you think Marianne with think? She worships the ground you walk on Dash, and here you are running out without saying a word."

"What do you want me to say, love," he tried to placate her, "that her father is having visions of death and destruction and if he doesn't leave now, then those visions may come true for her and her children, our grandchildren? She wouldn't understand."

"You know perfectly well she would understand if you tried to tell her."

"This _isn't_ her fight, Hope," he snapped, losing his composure for a moment and watched her flinch at his outburst. The last month had been hard for the both of him, each night he had been bombarded with visions of the galaxy on fire, a vast shadow consuming all life in darkness, visions of monsters who used living weapons, of the Sith Emperor once again ascendant. Every night he woke up in a cold sweat and sometimes, when the visions were at their worst, screaming loud enough to wake them up.

Closing his bag again, he slowly walked over to the bed and wrapped his arms around her, he dug his face into her hair, taking in the cherry scent of her shampoo as he breathed it deeply. He could feel her normally strong bearing crumble as she shook in his grasp, silently crying at the fact that something so perfect was now ending.

Fourteen years of happiness, and an angel of a daughter who had so much potential to be anything in the world if she put her mind to it. But now, now he had to leave.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I really am, you know I would not be doing this if it wasn't something I _had_ to do."

"I know," she whispered softly into his chest, trying to dry her tears on him. It was so unlike the strong woman that she was, but then again, she had to be strong for so long until she had met him that he had opened her back up to the world and allowed her to be free to be who she could be.

"I promise I'll come back as soon as I find what I am supposed to find, Hope, I promise."

 **RotF**

He broke his promise.

That was the only thing that could be said as he looked upon the grave marker set outside of the cabin that contained so many memories, the building now abandoned and growth beginning to retake the land that had been so carefully tended to. The very nature that he had helped shape to provide a better home for the three of them.

He brought himself down into a crouch, brushing off the biological detritus that had threatened to overgrow the beacon even as he read the name upon the large stone, etching it into his memory.

 **Hope Lamperouge**

 **March 6th, A.T.B. 1952 - June 13th, A.T.B. 1994**

He placed his fingers upon the name, even as he felt tears silently trek down his cheeks, the only show of emotion he could give this solemn moment.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't come back any sooner, love," he whispered, his voice easily carried away in the wind.

He had tried, Force, had he tried. But for some reason, there were people in Britannia who were aware that he existed and sought him out, for reasons that he could only attribute to the darkness that he felt emanating from the capital.

For some reason, he could only believe that it was because of his daughter, now the Empress-Consort and wife of Emperor Charles zi Britannia. He had watched with pride as she was able to climb the ranks, wanting so desperately to connect with her, but finding his way blocked. And now….now…

"We have a grandson," he continued, "Lelouch," he shook his head at the name, and Hope had accused him of being poor at naming, "he looks like you from what I've seen. I think you would have loved him."

He sighed, shaking his head, feeling a whisper in the Force, something that could not be ignored as he slowly rose to his feet, pulling his cowl back up and over his head. Immediately, he turned and found himself surrounded by several men all wearing black, their weapons drawn and leveled at him.

"Can a grieving husband pay his respects to his wife," he said, his voice like a calm in the storm even as his hand placed itself upon a cylinder that he then unclipped from his belt, taking in the threats all around him.

"You will come with us, Dash Lamperouge," the leader stated, his weapon not lowering, "by the order of the Emperor."

 _Emperor_ , that word always caused him a mixture of unwanted feelings as he could feel the rage that was always there slowly rise before he soothed it, his eyes locking upon the leader.

"You have two choices here, _sir_ : Either you walk away now and return to your Emperor and tell him I wish to be left alone, or I send you back as the message, the choice is yours."

He let that hang in the air for a moment, noting the tension in the air and realizing he was only left with one choice.

"Very well," he said softly, regret hanging in his voice as he lowered his head, allowing the Force to flow through and guide him in that moment, "I warned you."

His left hand snapped up and he introduced his attackers to powers far beyond their comprehension.

 **RotF**

He strode down the corridors of the research facility with a singular purpose in mind, the only sound dominating the hallway the dull hum of his lightsaber as it was held low by his side as he marched through the facility that held the key to the outside galaxy.

Already there had been several attempts to stop him, either through soldiers he quickly recognized as the same men and women who had hunted him the last few years. It was no surprise that this 'Geass Order" would be here, protecting and researching the one technology that could jump the Britannian Empire light years ahead of its competition.

At least, that's what they thought, he reminded himself mirthlessly as he came to a stop in the room that held his objective, a Rakatan transport of the kind they used for their conquest. How it ended up on Earth escaped him, but it did provide him an opportunity if it was still operational in some manner. Still, he found it unlikely that these scientists would be able to crack something like this at their technological level.

The sound of footfalls caused him to turn around, watching as armed scientists came running down the hallway. Taking them in for a moment, he turned away, already summoning up the necessary energy to quickly kill them, not even paying them heed anymore as he shot lightning towards the duo, sending them to join the rest of the dead.

Taking in the ship for a few moments, he then walked forward to where he knew the access door was only to stop as the door opened to reveal a bespectacled, lavender-haired teenager with a spoon in his mouth, a nearly empty cup of pudding in hand. They both stood there, saying nothing, even as the teen's eyes trailed down to his purple-bladed lightsaber before they lit up in an expression that Revan knew perfectly well having seen it on his face a few times.

"Plasma sheathed in a magnetic containment field," the teen asked, the awkwardness of the situation, even with the now fresh smell of recently cooked bodies cloying the air, "right?"

"Uhhh...yes."

"I KNEW IT," the teen shouted, cup of pudding hitting the ground, "I told that old coot that your weapon could only be that, but he insisted that it was some type of arc generator but that was stupid, something like that would kill the user. That man owes me a month's supply of pudding…," he then trailed off before sighing with a look of defeat as he realized his situation, "which I'm not going to collect, am I?"

"That depends," he decided to respond, finding his curiosity piqued by the teenager that looked like he should be buried in books, not in a top secret research facility managed by cutthroats, "how did you open the door?"

"Oh. That," the teenager replied, "it was actually quite simple, don't know what my esteemed colleagues were thinking, it was just a matter of figuring out the password. Tricky language, I will admit, but it seemed to share some commonality with numbers. It's not my fault that the password was so simple my colleagues wouldn't believe that the password was the equivalent of our 1-2-3-4-5," he then shrugged, "I just decided that since I didn't want to get harassed while I had my pudding that I'd have it in here."

 _What. The. Sithspit._ He could only think to himself as he continued to stare for a few moments before shaking his head.

"And did you do anything in there?"

"Well...I may have gotten some pudding on the chair, but I swear that wasn't my fault, I just was curious and touched a button and it showed all of these images. Not that I could make any sense of them."

"Good," Revan replied, making a decision as he waved a hand, watching as the teen slump over and fall facefirst onto the cup of pudding, what little of its contents were in it now ended up all over his face. He winced at the fact that that had just happened, but he didn't have the time, it was likely whoever was in charge was going to converge on them sooner rather than later. Taking a moment to pick up the teenager and put him across the room, he strode back into the transport, noting that indeed, the password was the Rakatan equivalent of 1-2-3-4-5, and got to work.

He knew that the transport would not be able to get him out of here, but the fact that the teenage scientist had said that one of the holographic displays had started up meant that at least there would be power, which meant that he could likely use the communications terminal.

It only took him a few minutes to find what he was looking for, his history with the technology providing him the knowledge to change the transponder code to mimic a Republic distress beacon with a 'do not come to this location' tag. The next part of it was to piggyback a secondary message on the beacon to provide a second set of coordinates for recovery. It was an advanced Republic SAR method, but it would be easily recognizable for any of those in the know. Finally, he attached his personal ID tag to it, so whoever came knew who they were dealing with.

Taking one last look at it, he then locked the terminal, making sure no one would be able to use it or disrupt the message outside of destroying the ship, and quickly began his journey to the coordinated that would place him in Area Two.

 **RotF**

That...was not a Republic shuttle, he thought to himself as he watched in the distance as the vehicle settled onto the clearing he had created for the shuttle in the last few months. Since he had put out the distress beacon, he had waited here in the hope that it would be heard and that there would be someone coming, whether they be Republic or Sith.

But these were neither, the lines of the shuttle, the inverted y-shape, everything about it screamed strictly utilitarian and uniform. Then again, if he was honest with himself, he had demanded the same thing of his men when he had been in charge of the Sith….though Malak had left quite a bit to be desired in the conformity department.

Instead of dwelling upon the matter further, he watched as the boarding ramp on the bottom of the shuttle lowered to the ground and from there stepped several humanoid figures that came down to the bottom and assumed a defensive posture for the shuttle, weapons at the ready, scanning for threats. Black hair, blue skin, and red eyes, they reminded him of a race he heard of but could not remember their name.

It was now or never he realized as he strode forward towards the shuttle, leaving the copse of trees that had served as his vantage point.

The troops reacted automatically, weapons coming to train on him, before lowering. From the shuttle came another of the blue-skinned humanoids.

"Lord Revan," the male asked, to which he nodded, somewhat surprised by the usage of the title, "I am Kres'ten'tarthi, you may refer to me by my Core Worlds name of Stent. We are here to pick you up."

"May I ask who you represent?"

"You may. We are the Empire of the Hand."

 **RotF**

The last few days had been rather interesting to say the least. From the moment he had been picked up on Earth he had been largely left alone, his escort not providing any more information than necessary and he had not pressed them for information, realizing right away that whatever this Empire of the Hand was, he was likely being taken to someone with a lot more authority.

This of course had left him plenty of time to meditate and dwell upon his own thoughts, which were unfortunately ones he wished he did not have to do as it had left him open with glimpses of his vision, of the galaxy still on fire and trillions upon trillions of sentient beings dead. Suffice to say rest was something that was fleeting even now as he continued down this unknown road. And then there were the rumors he had began to hear about his daughter before he had left, rumors that had left him worried that maybe he was making a mistake.

Yet, as much as he had wanted to investigate those rumors, the needs of the many had outweighed the needs of the few, and he made it a point to return back to Earth as soon as possible, but right now he had to focus upon the galaxy as a whole or it wouldn't matter what happened, everyone would be dead.

Which led him to this point as he was led down the corridors of a ship that he had only been able to gain a passing glance at as they had approached, the large arrowhead shape that reminded him of his own ships, but yet wasn't. Now, instead of the blue-skinned Chiss that had accompanied him for the majority of the trip, he had found himself surrounded more and more by humans, an underlying message he wasn't exactly sure how to take it considering. It was as he dwelled upon those and other thoughts that they finally came through a door and into a larger antechamber.

It was as he stepped into the antechamber following the Imperial officer that introduced himself as Voss Parck, that everything felt wrong, immediately his eyes snapping over the room, even as he sought to tap into his connection with the force as his senses were screaming danger. Only, to his shock, he found that while he could feel the Force, he could not use it. It was then his eyes were drawn to the solitary Chiss sitting in a command chair, hands steepled in front of him as he stared evenly at him, red eyes glowing in the dim chamber, studying him.

"It seems that you are Jedi at least," the figure stated, "if you were not, then you would not be showing distress at the fact that you suddenly find that you cannot access your so-called Force."

"And how are you doing that, if I may ask," he decided to ask, knowing that at least there would not be violence yet, even without the Force, he could tell that whoever this person was, they were merely testing him at the moment.

"Have you ever heard of a species called Ysalimiri, native to the planet Myrkyr?"

It took him a few moments of thinking before he recalled reports during the Mandalorian Wars of a planet in which a few Jedi reported difficulty in using the force.

"I remember hearing of incidents on a planet by the name of Myrkyr, but I do not recall if we ever ascertained the cause of it. The war took too much of our time."

"I see," came the response as the alien's eyes narrowed further, "I find myself intrigued, Lord Revan. By you, specifically. Here you are, a man that history regards as dead for millennia, suddenly appearing on a pre-hyperspace world. You aren't a clone, the scans confirmed that, nor do you show any sort of after-effects of being held in stasis through known means. Yet at the same time, you appear older than what history records you as. I do not consider myself an expert upon your quasi-religious order, yet there are only a handful of reasonable, if fantastical in their deductive point of origin, conclusions that can be made."

 _Millennia_ , he thought to himself, keeping his expression from changing, even as those words impacted him. He had a feeling that it would be true, but for it to be confirmed...there would be no reunion with Bastila, everyone he knew was likely dead.

"So," Thrawn continued, hands steepling, "I'm left with the question: Why appear now? What does this...Force of yours tell you that is so important that you resurface, so far from home and time?"

Knowing that when he started this all there was no turning back, and despite everything this was likely the only chance he had if the Force had guided him to this point.

"i have seen a vision," he began, "a vision of the galaxy on fire. Consumed in a tide of flesh and blood. In that vision, the name of the perpetrator, screamed in despair, Vong. The reason I am here, before you, guided by a series of events that I can only hope has led me true, is to offer aid to fight this enemy, before they consume the galaxy. For while they may not be here now, they are coming."

For a moment it was as silent as death, as if the very galaxy had chosen to hold its breath out if fear that if it had breathed it would doom itself. All that mattered were the two men, one with power and one seeking it.

Then, the silence was broken, as the Chiss spoke, his cultured cool voice dominating the room.

"For years now, we've called them The Far Outsiders," he began, hands unsteepling to tap a command into his chair, which brought up a series of holograms, showing a map of the galaxy, "the Chiss Ascendency, former Republic, and now the Empire have been aware of the existence of these extragalactic enemies for some time now. Unfortunately, preparing for them has been…problematic."

Revan nodded, knowing perfectly well how difficult it was to prepare a galaxy for war.

"Currently, for lack of a better term, the galaxy is a mess. The Empire, formerly led by Emperor Palpatine, a Sith," he paused, watching as Revan's eyes narrowed slightly, but did nothing more, "is currently losing ground to a rebellion the wishes to restore the corrupt republic that the Empire replaced. If it were not for my mission in preparing the Unknown Regions for these Vong, and the fact that the Empire has splintered into several warlords who would not take kindly upon my presence, I would have already returned in order to stop the hemorrhaging and restore order."

"A wise decision," Revan murmured, looking to the holograms, hand cupping his chin, "yet you still intend to return."

"I do. But not before I establish contingencies in the event that I fail to restore the Empire in time for the Outsiders. With your services offered, what may have been feasible would become assured outcome. Of course, it would be predicated upon bringing you up to speed upon the galaxy as a whole."

Revan stood there, eyes focused upon the map before him, weighing the options presented to him. He was honestly surprised that he would be offered an opportunity like this so quickly, let alone by a man he had just met. Yet, knowing what was coming, and knowing that to hold back the darkness, he would have to become involved with everything he had, he knew that this was likely his only option.

"A few things…"

"You may call me Thrawn."

"Admiral…?"

"Grand Admiral."

"Grand Admiral Thrawn, then," Revan corrected himself, "first, what is the status of the Jedi Order?"

"The Jedi Order was, for all intents and purposes, destroyed twenty-five years ago on order of Emperor Palpatine. If there are any survivors, it is likely they number less than a few dozen of Knight quality or below."

"I see," Revan said quietly, taking a deep steadying breath. It wasn't a breath that stemmed from a sense of loss that the order no longer existed, it was a reaction borne of the fact that an entity that he knew from his own time was gone, just like so many others.

Yet it also explained why the Force had remained so quiet, straining silently, pleading to be let loose once again.

"Very well then," he recovered, "I will offer my services to you, Grand Admiral. In return, I would like to request a boon."

"And that is?"

Taking one more look at the holographic map, he stared at it contemplatively, even as he pondered the events that he would start into motion with this request. But, knowing that he while he had failed in his promise to _her_ , he would not fail _him_ , nor would he fail the Force _again_.

"I wish to retrieve my grandson."


	2. A New Dawn

**Sorry for the battle scene in advance. Been suffering stress migraines the last couple of days and I just wanted to get something out to you all.**

 **Chapter 1**

 **A New Dawn**

In a previous life, it had been the corporate building of the Sawano Electronics, one of the leading worldwide producers of electronics. It had been a gem of Japanese architecture and ingenuity, serving to usher in the next generation of building designs that were both modern, yet uniquely Japanese.

That had been before the invasion. Before Britannia had conquered Japan and renamed it with its loathsome area designated as number eleven. Now, it was merely a hollowed out shell, neglected and decaying, a distant memory of many, a den of ghosts for others.

So, if anyone had still used the building, they would have been surprised by the sound of footsteps that seemed to echo throughout the entire building, meeting no resistance from any other source. This went on for several minutes, before finally, a door opened to the stairwell and a cloaked figure shrouded in darkness stepped onto one of the top-most floors. For a moment, the figure merely stood there, looking around as its cloak masked its face, before it began moving again, coming to the eastmost side that looked out into the distance where smoke was beginning to rise.

The figure said nothing, even as debris and detritus shifted aside without being touched, providing an open area for the figure as it strode into the middle of the cleared area, staring outwards for a few moments, before it then sat down only a meter or so from the edge of the building, its legs crossing into the lotus position.

An explosion echoed in the distance, a muffled sound that seemed to fight to reach the figure in a desperate plea. Yet it did not faze the figure, the only sign that the figure was alive was the rise and fall of its shoulders to signify it was breathing.

And then, a single mote of light appeared in front of the figure, followed by another to its left, and then another. Suddenly, as if a signal had passed, more motes of light began appearing until it surrounded the figure, suffusing the area around the figure in a soft light.

"Now," the figure spoke, voice distorted, "shall we begin."

* * *

 **RotF**

* * *

"Kallen, fall back now, your position's being overrun."

Kallen Kozuki cursed loudly, as she ripped her sword out of a downed Sutherland, spinning her landspinner's wheels to a horrible screech as she ducked behind a building as several rounds ripped divots in the ground and surroundings of where she had just been.

"Don't worry about me Naoto," she commed back, trying to handle the information she was being fed that painted a disastrous picture, "just get as many people as you can out."

"Kallen-"

"Go, dammit. I'll figure something out," she snapped, slipping out from a building and slashing her MVS katana through another Sutherland, before jumping up, her slash harkens latching onto a building before ripping her away from another killzone as she fired a her own responding burst of cannon fire before trying to use the terrain to mask herself, even as her sensors screamed the danger she was in.

 _Damn Britannia_ , she thought with a hiss, as a pair of Sutherlands landed around her, one with a lance, while the other attempted to pepper her with its gunfire.

They had all known this had been coming. When Prince Clovis had been recalled back to Pendragon, everything had changed for both the resistance and the JLF, for the worse. Clovis' replacement, Duke Armando Calares, was not the incompetent fop that Clovis had been, and while he didn't immediately launch offensive operations, it was readily evident as he reorganized and revamped his forces, that it was not a question of if, but when.

So when the Saitama Ghetto was completely wiped out down to the last man, woman, and child, it had opened up an entirely new Pandora's Box of horrors, as Calares' strategy became apparent.

Instead of seeking out the JLF that was still largely intact from the war, he was going to force the JLF to respond to his actions, forcing them to fight on his terms, and win. And if the JLF did not rally, then they would lose the favor of the very people that they pledged to protect

Yet, no one, had expected Britannia to strike in another major operation like this only a week after Saitama, but that's what they did.

Kallen, and her brother Naoto, were both in Shinjuku reviewing their cell, the largest of the surviving dozen or so when Shinjuku was cut off. And now, they were in a battle of survival….

That they were losing.

Dispatching the two Sutherlands, the sweat starting to get in her eyes, Kallen took a quick glance at their tactical net, not liking what she saw.

Pound for pound, they were better trained and equipped thanks to the advisors and equipment furnished by the JLF, but the Britannians were just burying them in numbers not caring for their own losses as they attrited down the cell's forces.

"Kallen," it was Naoto again, only this time there wasn't as much energy, "they cut off the escape route. Yoshida's gone, Ohgi said it was the Purists before he went down. They're…"

He didn't need to say anything as Kallen already knew what he was trying to say. All their work in securing an escape route and the Purists had known exactly where it was and we're likely massacring the evacuees, but it also meant that someone had sold them out.

Which meant…

The ground exploded beside her, and Kallen found her Guren tumbling into a building: concrete giving way under her mass. Kallen found herself disoriented from the blast to find a Challenger Mk IV tank had crept up on her, only barely missing her thanks to the smoke and secondaries currently going off. But it now had her dead to rights as its cannon was adjusting to her now.

 _No, dammit,_ Kallen mentally shouted, fighting to get her Gekka up even as it resisted, cursing herself for her inattention for something she should have seen, _get up! I can't die here! Not while Japan is not free!_

Yet it seemed as if those words were frivolous, as the Gekka slow, too slowly, rise from its position and Kallen knew it was too late, and she screamed, letting all of her bottled up emotions loose, unknowing of what she had just done.

But then, to her shock nothing had happened as she moved the Gekka and raised the autocannon to fire, the rounds peppering the armor and a few rounds penetrated the ring between the tank turret and body, setting off the ammunition stored in the crew compartment.

It was in that moment that she felt _it_. At first, it was a faint feeling of _strangeness_ that just seemed to hover at her periphery, just teasing her to open up, and for a moment, she unconsciously resisted the urge to embrace whatever _it_ was. But then it became persistent, rushing through lackluster defenses like a tsunami through a poorly built wall. Suddenly she could see the entirety of the battlespace, as if she were there, along with a euphoric feeling that if she was brutally honest with herself, was one step away from being orgasmic.

And with it all, she knew what to do, as she let out a breath, her expression shifting to one of determination as everything was provided to her, and her Gekka _flew_.

* * *

 **RotF**

* * *

The seated figure actually blinked at the sudden sensation of brushing against someone who shared his gift, taken momentarily aback at the mathematical _improbability_ that should have happened. That momentary falter had resulted in the death of two more before he had reestablished himself, but now he found something that had intrigued him even as he rededicated himself to fulfilling what he had intended to do. He would deal with this wrinkle later.

There was a reason battle meditation was highly sought after power, the ability to change the very face of battle by rallying your allies and demoralizing your enemies was the sort of thing that earned all of its wielders a kill or subvert order by Jedi or Sith.

That wasn't to say he was fully mastered in the ability, far from it, he could still find himself drawn into the emotions and feelings of those he enhanced or impeded, something that could impact the performance of the meditation. But he refused to let that control him _here_ , not on the first step of his trial.

* * *

 **RotF**

* * *

Viceroy Armando Calares was used to victory in his life, he had cut his teeth over the years as a ruthless tactician who achieved what he had set out to do, regardless of the overall cost. That wasn't to say he was inured to the casualties he suffered in his fights, it was merely a result of achieving victory as quickly and effectively as possible.

Nor was he unaware of the cost upon the enemy as well. The more he killed, the less there were to maintain the imperial machine. But at the same time, he refused to allow his enemy a respite if they chose to lay down their arms then they were treated reasonably.

But if they continued to support an illegal insurgency…

Saitama and Shinjuku were the result.

Of course, there were those that didn't support the rebellion, but in a war against a clever insurgency you did not have the time to sort them out, so there would be innocents killed in the fighting.

But that was war. And he was tasked to inflict the true barbarity of war upon the Elevens. Not out if some misplaced hostility, he did not revel in death, but because the lives spent now would save lives later as the Elevens realized the futility of their actions and chose to embrace the Empire.

And if the JLF and its proxies chose to not yield? Well, they would sooner or later have to make a stand in order to salvage what little reputation they had, or yield. An organization failing to protect those that they champion will soon find themselves without support.

It was only a matter of time, time that had been wasted by that fop Clovis.

"5th Regiment has reported enemy evacuation route has been severed."

"Excellent," Calares responded to the news, looking over the map of the battlefield, "Shift 3rd and 6th Knightmare Regiments along the old Odakyu Line, I want to envelope the northernmost forces while the 5th Regiment presses in with air cover. Colonel Addison, how are your men doing?"

"We've almost cracked their radio cipher, once we have that I can give you the commander of the rebels in a few minutes."

"Good, alert me once your men succeed. General Easton," his gaze shifted to a mousy looking man who had served under him for years, "once we have the location of their commander I want you to a fire mission on that position. From there it's a matter of mop-up."

He blinked, suddenly everything feeling wrong. He couldn't put a finger on it, but it just...like someone had walked over his grave, that he shouldn't even be here.

"What," he paused, his gaze coming to other officers and personnel in the command center, who also looked under the same influence of whatever it was. A part of his rational mind was trying to dismiss it, but at the same time, it just was _there_.

Then it was broken as the previously unflappable men under his command began reporting a litany of disasters, their calmness giving away to an edge of panic.

"Viceroy, 3rd and 6th Regiments are reporting heavy attack."

"5th Regiment is bogged down and under heavy fire."

"We have Knightmares appearing in Sectors 3 and 7."

"What the hell is going on?!"

"Viceroy, their radio cipher has changed completely. We can't crack it."

"Lazlo team is down."

"Summers has ejected."

"5th Regiment is requesting reinforcements."

"Where the hell is the anti-material rifle fire coming from?!"

To have everything going exactly as planned to this, Calares eyes narrowed, not disputing that things had changed, but that there was no plausible cause for this change outside of the sudden onset of whatever _this_ was.

"We have a Knightmare engaging elements of the 6th Regiment."

"It's only one Knightmare."

No, there was something else going on here, he rationalized, not out of pride, but by the fact that there shouldn't be this amount of trouble. There was only one cell with a handful of knightmares and maybe one upper tier devicer, their source had been thorough in his report.

Immediately he reviewed an alert that had been floating in the army for nearly the last fifteen years. One that was treated like a wive's tale, and if it hadn't been corroborated by both OSI and the Emperor, it would have been kept that way.

"6th Regiment is requesting a fire support mission, danger close!"

"Are you serious?!"

But, he thought as he gazed over the map, lickimng his lips what had previously been one that conveyed a sense of a quick campaign, was turning into something else entirely, something more inherently more dangerous.

"Signal to all units, begin an orderly withdrawal," the voice escaped his lips before he had solidified his position, knowing that he needed more information. Nay, he needed to confer with Pendragon. All of his senses were screaming that there was something wrong with this picture, that the feeling he had just experienced was something the Emperor should be informed immediately, regardless of this battle.

"Viceroy?!"

"The enemy is putting up more resistance than we had expected," he declared, his gaze not leaving the map itself, "it may be that the JLF has finally decided to change the game. If they have chosen to intervene, then we have completed one of our primary objectives, let's not waste assets on the unknown."

"Of course, sir."

Calares drew a breath in, turning away from the map.

"Easton, with me."

"Yes, Viceroy."

* * *

 **RotF**

* * *

Letting go of a breath he didn't know he had been holding, the figure slowly withdrew himself from his meditation, each string slowly disentangling itself from the grand theater he had manipulated, leaving him weary from using the technique in such a manner. It wasn't just manipulating the battlespace, providing information and morale to his allies, but it was also the effort he had put into dominating the will of the enemy commanders in such a way that they would make the mistakes necessary to open a pathway to victory.

And finally, it had been the Viceroy itself he had turned his focus upon, and had the most difficulty with, the man's assuredness being a difficult hurdle to overcome, he finally did it. Yet, it was probably the most difficult part of the entire effort.

Slowly, he rose from the lotus position, dusting himself off as he contemplated what he had discovered. A Force sensitive, and a decently powerful one at that, even if they were unrefined. That changed quite a few things, requiring a different, more personal touch that he would have to investigate and see if this user could be utilized for the future. Still, he had to wonder if there were others out there. Considering the mathematical impossibility of finding a sufficiently powerful Force sensitive so quickly on a backwards planet such as this…

 _It must be one of those Will of the Force_ _things_ , the figure mused with a soft chuckle as he reached the bottom floor of the tower, taking a look around the desolate landscape for a few moments. To him, this was a possible vision of the future, one that he was taking this step on his journey to prevent. Instead of simply a city, it was an entire galaxy, bereft of life and energy, it's structures decaying to the unforgiving elements.

 _No_ , he pledged to himself, _that will not happen. Not when we have warning and a fighting chance._

So lost in his thoughts, he had almost missed the warning in the Force as the squeal of landspinners ripped his attention to a Sutherland that came barreling out from several of the buildings, it's right arm missing, and several gashes over the entirety of the frame. His hand fell to his a cylinder clipped to his belt on the inside of his robes, just as a Gekka came out of nowhere and delivered a coup de grace to the Knightmare, causing the pilot to eject just in time before the Sutherland exploded.

Relaxing just slightly, he watched as the Gekka turned to him.

* * *

 **RotF**

* * *

"Hey! Why are you here," Kallen demanded, as she double-checked her sensors, even as she listened into Naoto her focus split between multiple things, "you should be with the-"

She trailed off as she caught a glimpse of the figure she had saved.

It was almost as though he was an orphaned shadow, standing there dressed completely in black. In fact, if it wasn't for the seriousness of the situation, she would have likely laughed at the fact that whoever it was appeared to be wearing a _robe_ of some kind over what looked like armor. Except she could feel a familiar warmth about him, as though it had been his hand that had guided her to victory.

When the figure didn't move, she took the time to look more at him. It wasn't just his attire, but it was the mask, a mask that she knew that behind that T-shaped were a pair of eyes that were piercing into her very soul, measuring her.

"ANSWER ME," she shouted, "were you the one who did...that?!"

If she had expected an answer, she was sorely mistaken, as she _felt_ _it_ , before she saw it. One second he was standing there, his posture relaxed, and the next moment he _moved_ , in a speed that left him a black blur and leaving her completely flabbergasted.

"Hey!"

But it was too late. Whoever it is, they were already gone, leaving Kallen with a hell of a lot more questions, than answers.

* * *

 **RotF**

* * *

They were questions that still plagued her, two days later, as she returned to Saint Ricardo Academy to fulfill her schooling, much to her chagrin. If it wasn't for Naoto, she would have spent more time trying to salvage what was left of their cell and get the survivors to other ghettos.

To say what they had left would be called a cell would be an understatement. They were broken, the cell that her brother had built up over the last three years was down to a couple dozen personnel and a handful of Knightmares in various states of disrepair. There was likely no way the JLF was going to offer any further support, which left them in a position neither were looking forward to.

Their first option was to try and rebuild, without the support of the JLF, something that was likely impossible with Calares now running things; the second was to join another cell, but the fact that both Naoto and herself were half-bloods, that was likely not going to end well regardless of their performance up until now; third, they would be absorbed into the JLF, an outcome the same as the second, only they would have no flexibility to chart their own course; or finally, they could just quit.

Kallen's jaw clenched stifling the anger that simmered just beneath the surface, whispering for her to give in before she buried it even deeper. It wasn't fair in all of this, they hadn't reached the point they had only to be discarded like trash. They just needed another success to prove that they could still work to achieve Japan's freedom.

"If I may have your attention class," came the voice of their homeroom teacher, Mister Ogden, causing Kallen to rip herself back to the here and now, in order to maintain her facade as dutiful noblewoman, "we have a new student joining our class from the homeland."

With that, he motioned to the door connecting the amphitheater to his office, the door opening up in response to his summons, and a figure stepped out.

Immediately Kallen leaned forward in her seat, attention captivated like the rest of the auditorium as the figure strode to a stop in the center of the pit.

He was tall, the school uniform doing little to hide the physically fit body that lurked beneath, instead serving to enhance it. His raven hair was swept back into a ponytail with a pair of bangs framing that served to highlight aristocratic features and amethyst eyes that you could only drown in their depths if you looked too long.

But it was his presence, even Kallen could feel it from here, his presence commanded respect and attention. And niggled something at the back of her mind, screaming that she should know this person.

"My name is Julius Kingsley," the boy introduced himself, a warm, inviting smile on his face, the kind that could leave girls and a few guys in a puddle, and Kallen could feel his eyes staring straight at her, "it's a pleasure."

* * *

 **Now, to answer your questions that you have considering 1) Naoto is still alive, 2) Kallen is 18, which means its R2 territory in canon, and 3) why it seems that Shinjuku is starting later than it should be in canon. The answers come down to Lelouch himself, and how his kidnapping has changed everything. You'll see more in coming chapters just the type of effect it has had on Britannia. If you have any questions, feel free to ask them either in review or in PM, and I'll try and answer them. Until the next chapter** **.**


	3. Excitement Adventure A Jedi Craves Not

**I should have probably stated this before, to help clear up some things. But, Lelouch was born a.t.b. 1999 , which translates as roughly 5 Years ABY, or for those of you who want it more specific: 1 Year AFTER the Battle of Endor. Revan meets with Thrawn a year after that, or a.t.b. 2000 From there, it is now early a.t.b. 2018 on Earth, 23 Years ABY Galactic Standard, or 19 years after Endor now, give or take.. Hopefully that clarifies a few things for everyone.**

 **Just some advanced warning. The last scene is rather dark, and creepy. But why this is will be explored more in the next chapter. If you are expecting canon, you are sadly mistaken. Especially if you have a certain point of view regarding a certain sisterly character.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

 **Excitement. Adventure. A Jedi Craves Not.**

Brown eyes watched impassively as the sun began to set upon Nirauan, the owner of said eyes lost in thought at the datapad that sat upon the railing in front of him.

How could he have missed it, he wondered to himself as he contemplated the news provided to him by his grandson. Had he been that out of sync with the Force that he hadn't even realized what he had been residing upon.

It wasn't the news that Lelouch had found a decently powerful Force-sensitive that surprised him, mathematically there was always a slim margin for that considering. No, it was the news that was added to it.

Once Lelouch had found one when he wasn't even looking, he had decided to actively search, and what he found both excited and terrified Revan.

Not only had his grandson found dozens more sensitive in the Force in the very city he had chosen as his base of operations; he had discovered that Earth was a kriffing _Force Nexus_ , of all things.

Just what had happened to make it such a place? That was what worried him, because for all intents and purposes... _it just shouldn't be._

Running a hand through his hair that was greying, he couldn't help but feel like the Force was trying to tell him something, warning him, but for the life of him he couldn't define what it actually was. Just what had happened to create such a situation? And what was the risk to his grandson?

He had sent him to Earth as a final trial. Had that been a mistake?

The door chime drew him from his thoughts as he stepped away from the patio and entered back into his office.

"Enter," he called, taking a seat the desk, which was strewn with dozens of datapads dealing with minutiae of running the Empire of the Hand. It was something that had fallen to him after Thrawn had left him in charge of the organization upon his return to known space.

The door to his office opened and General Baron Soontier Fel stepped in, followed by another man, dressed in clothing that could pass for civilian garb if not for the armor that was hidden underneath, a lightsaber clipped at the man's side.

"General," Revan greeted, "Master Marek. I apologize for drawing you away from your duties, but I've found myself in a situation and I would like your input. Please take a seat."

With that, the two men did, allowing Revan a few moments to organize his own thoughts for the matter.

"General, how many Arbiters can we spare for rapid deployment to Earth?"

The former commander of the 181st Fighter Squadron blinked, somewhat taken aback by the question. What had gone wrong that Revan was asking for Star Destroyers?!

"Three," he responded, "I think I can scrape up a fourth, the Indomitable is in the middle of her trials at the moment, but Captain Thren is reporting that she's performing green across the board."

"Master Marek, how many Knights can you spare?"

Galen Marek, commander of the military arm of what was unofficially referred to as the Order of Revan, sat there quietly, obviously considering the question. But that was fine with Revan, Marek's opinions had become one that he had valued quite highly.

The story of Galen Marek was one that was whispered by those who were familiar with the early days of the Rebellion, both because of the unconventionality of the man's origins, but also because of how it all ended. Galen Marek had been a hero for the Rebellion for his actions in saving the leadership in the early days of its forming, his family crest used as the symbol of the rebellion.

That same honor had not extended to his clone, despite his actions in capturing Darth Vader on Kamino. Instead, it had been met with derision and suspicion as Darth Vader was subsequently rescued by Boba Fett not shortly after while he was being transferred to Dantooine. This had started the eventual disappearance of not only Galen, but Juno Eclipse, who had carried on where she had left off with the original Marek.

Unfortunately, Senator Garm Bel Iblis had still quite a bit of power at the time, and he had sought a scapegoat for this failure, with all of it coming to rest upon Juno Eclipse's shoulders, both for the loss of the Salvation, but also Vader's escape. This, along with the fact that the clone was 'inconvenient' for the Rebel Alliance, since they already had a hero in the original, it had ended with Galen and Juno leaving the Rebellion. Faced with the fact that they would have been hunted by both the Rebellion and Vader, they had gone into hiding on Artorias, in the Outer Rim. Not exactly an unnoticeable choice, but it was one that paid dividends as the Empire had not cared about the planet, and the Rebellion had its hands full with other things, like the rise of new heroes like Luke Skywalker.

It had only been through the assistance of several assets that Revan had even gotten a whisper of the former apprentice. Recruiting him had been more difficult considering both the man's upbringing, but also the fact that in the years he had raised a family.

"I can give you Aurek and Besh Teams, they've been itching for a bit of action since that fight with the Vagaari. But I would like to know why you are asking for all of my ready squads."

"Because it appears that Earth has significantly more strategic value than previously believed. It not only appears to possibly have a significant Force-sensitive population that may dwarf what currently exists in the galaxy, but according to Lelouch, it also appears to be a Force Nexus."

Garen cursed, while the Baron looked pensive, knowing full well what a Force Nexus entailed considering he was now surrounded by several Force users had required him to take a crash course in aspects of the Force.

"I can get another two teams around in a week or so," Marek spoke now, eyes flinty, "along with myself if need be. Kanos can handle everything while I am gone"

"That will be appreciated," Revan responded, "In addition, I will also be personally overseeing this as wel. While I do intend for Lelouch to finish his trial, I still want to be ready if there are complications. If there are, well, I don't think that planet can stand what we can bring to bear upon it, don't you?"

"No," Fel agreed with a nod, "still, the Ascendency is going to want to know why we are pulling so many ships off patrol."

That was one wrinkle to the entire equation, Revan had actively reached out to the Chiss Ascendency for an alliance, working very closely with the Chiss as a result of their mutual interests and for the equipment and knowhow on ship design that the Empire of the Hand provided. As a result, what had been a relationship where the Chiss had merely ignored the organization founded by one of their own gone rogue, was now a relationship that was mutually beneficial.

"I will inform the Ruling Families of our intentions. I think they will be intrigued at the possible benefits if we can secure Earth to use against the Vong."

 _And it may just be the solution I'm looking for_ , he thought to himself, though his frown deepened when he looked at a picture of two people, _even if the price will likely be too steep._

* * *

 **RotF**

* * *

"Suzaku-sama. Suzaku-sama!"

A loud groan was the only response as one Suzaku Kururugi's body flopped on his bed, hand flying over the nightstand and knocking a bottle on the ground, a small miracle that all that was heard as a loud thunk as the bottle hid wood.

"Suzaku-sama, you need to wake up," came the plea from the maid, who tried to nudge her boss again, before going to open the curtains to let light into the room.

"Huh. Wha-," green eyes blearily opened, before slamming shut and their owner hissed at the feeling of an ice pick being shoved into his brain.

"Suzaku-sama," the maid continued, "Kozuki-san is here."

Eyes opened again, Suzaku hissing as he willed away his exhaustion and the fact that his head felt like it was going to explode, "When," his voice croaked.

"Ten minutes ago, Suzaku-sama," the maid replied, waiting with her hands folded in her lap, "he said it was urgent," she added as he brought his feet down to the floor, his arms bracing him up even as he felt the urge to sway, eyes slowly focusing as his mind began gathering itself.

Groaning, he ran a hand through his wild hair as he rose to his feet, taking a robe from another maid and wrapping his boxer-clad figure in it. Then he looked to the head maid who had woken him.

"How do I look," he asked, trying to inject a bit of levity in the situation, despite easily recognizing the disgust in her eyes.

"You look fine, Suzaku-sama," the woman demurred, continuing the dance that had been ongoing for the last two years between them. They both knew that he knew her feelings on how he carried the Kururugi name.

Oh, if she only knew, he thought darkly, resisting the urge to already start drinking this morning, as he strode past her.

When Genbu Kururugi had been captured by Britannian special forces during the invasion of Japan, the role of head of house had then fallen to then ten year old Suzaku. And in the days after the annexation of Japan, the young boy had literally been left on his own, buried by both his role, but also the demands of the people who had worshipped the Lion of Japan, looking to him to be that second coming. It had honestly been too much for the young boy.

Especially considering he had been the one who had given the location of his father in order to stop the fighting.

It could have easily been construed that he had been too young to understand, too naive in his thinking, that selling out his father would achieve nothing except cementing Japan's annexation by Britannia. He had done it with the pledgethat Britannia would do the right thing and treat the Japanese like equals, believing the words of their Ambassador.

How stupid he had been.

Not only had the Britannian's gone back on the promise he had gotten from them. But they had instituted a system worse than the other areas by forcing the Japanese people into the ruins of their cities. And then, they had the gall to offer him nobility, of course the official reason was to recognize what the Kururugi's were, but unsaid was the real reason why.

So he had grown up, jaded and cynical, hating himself and everyone around him. Simply because they could not understand how pointless fighting was. And how he had been drawn into fighting himself.

"Yo, Suzaku," Naoto raised a hand in greeting, drawing Suzaku from his thoughts, the redhead seated on one of the chairs, sipping tea from ornate china.

"Naoto," Suzaku greeted, taking a seat across from the man who had become a friend in recent years.

It honestly seemed like yesterday when he had met Naoto at a social function, the redhead approaching him when everyone had given him a wide berth and striking up a conversation with him. It had been a simple act that had bloomed into a relationship to where Suzaku was now a silent partner in arming Naoto's operation, in addition to his work with the Kyoto Group.

"Sorry I'm bothering you," Naoto spoke after taking another sip of tea and setting the china down, "but I needed to talk to you."

"I'm sorry Naoto, but I can't-"

Naoto waved his hand, dismissing his apology, "No, I understand Suzaku, you did quite a lot already. I always had a feeling that something would happen. I'm just grateful Kallen is still with us. I don't know what I would do if something happened to her."

Suzaku nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself on the matter. Specifically his ongoing crush for the red-headed devicer who was everything he wish he could be. It had been for her that he had provided her with one of the first MVS swords that the JLF had been able to manufacture after acquiring the blueprints for the technology. It had been for her that he had been such a staunch supporter of Naoto's cell. From the first time he had laid his eyes on her, he knew that they were destined to be together.

"I'll see what I can do in a month or so Naoto. I'm not going to abandon you guys, and I don't want you to have to depend upon others. We're all in this together."

"Thank you, Suzaku. However, the reason I'm here is for something other than the cell."

Raising an eyebrow, he leaned back in his chair, making a motion to continue.

Naoto reached into his briefcase, retrieving a tablet from it, "I wouldn't be bothering you about this Suzaku, because even now it seems freaky. But I've gone to three different specialists before I came to you, but...well...you know how Kallen has always had that strange sixth sense?"

"Of course."

"Okay, let me preface all of this with the undisputed facts here. We were losing, and losing bad. They had us completely cut off and were moving in to finish us."

"Go on," Suzaku urged, as Naoto took a deep breath.

"I don't know really how to explain it, Suzaku. One moment, we're on the verge of being wiped out; the next, I can't even put it into words, but, I dunno, suddenly I felt like I knew everything. I knew exactly what to do, how to word it, and the thing is, I was fucking terrified...and then I wasn't. I just...the strangest thing."

Naoto stared off for a few seconds, before shaking his head.

"Anyways, whatever it was, it turned the entire battle. And then, somehow, Kallen was drawn to it, at least, that's what she claimed. She could feel where whatever it was was coming from and set off to check it out. And then, well…," he activated the tablet and placed it down on the table, pushing it across to Suzaku, who picked it up to find himself looking at a figure completely clad in black.

"Okay?"

"Just watch."

And he activated the play button, listening to Kallen demand who the figure was, before they disappeared into a black blur, taking off away from the Gekka.

Suzaku straightened in the chair, eyes widening, looking to Naoto, who merely motioned to the tablet again as it rewound, and then played again, this time at a slower speed, this time allowing him to see the figure actually run _._

"The gun camera clocked him in excess a hundred twenty kilometers per hour," Naoto stated, his tone terse, "I had three different experts analyse the damn data and they say it isn't fake. That whatever _that_ thing is, is fucking real."

"That's," Suzaku flopped bonelessly in his chair, still trying to process what he had just seen, "Kami-sama."

"God, is about right," Naoto agreed, "I don't know who this guy is, or where he came from, but Kallen says whatever that effect was, it came from this guy. I have half a mind to thank him, and half a mind to keep the hell away. Do you know if Kyoto…"

"No," Suzaku shook his head, "if they were sitting on something like this, you damn well know they wouldn't shut up about it."

Naoto nodded in agreement, still showing how tense he was, "I talked to some of my underground contacts, told them to keep an eye out for a guy like this. Do you think he's something the Brits cooked up?"

"And turned against them," Suzaku retorted incredulously before shaking his head, "if it were we'd be seeing OSI or some other black group roaming about," Suzaku paused, his brow furrowing, "though I guess you could chalk this up as strange, but Calares has been screaming to anyone of importance in Pendragon that what happened in Shinjuku wasn't his fault, the thing is, no one in Pendragon seems to be talking back."

"That is rather peculiar," Naoto agreed, "Pendragon is usually pretty damn quick to punish failure. Usually even before the fires have gone out. I think I'll ask around a bit, see if anyone knows why Pendragon is so quiet."

"And Kallen," Suzaku asked.

"I sent her back to school. My sister actually wants to hunt this guy down," Naoto laughed, "only way I want to bump into whatever this is is with any army and then something. Something rubs me the wrong way about all this."

"Probably a good idea then," the head of the Kururugi family agreed, grateful Naoto was keeping her safe.

"Though it'd be just her luck if she runs into the guy there."

Grimacing, he shook his head, "Don't even joke about that."

* * *

 **RotF**

* * *

 _It has to be him,_ Kallen thought to herself as she watched Julius Kingsley as he ate lunch, chatting amicably with a few girls who had surroundes him, asking questions about him. It was obvious that not even a day in that the teenager had developed a fan club.

It couldn't be a coincidence. For one, no one transferred in during the middle of the school year, especially in the most prestigious academy in Area 11. Second, she tended to know who was who in Area 11 as it was a requirement nobility, and she sure as hell had never heard of any Kingsley family, especially one with the kinda pull it would take to actually effect the transfer.

But all that went without even adding in her senses were screaming at her in both recognition, but also danger. Like she was in the midst of an apex predator that knew perfectly well what he was.

"Kallen. Hey, Kallen!"

A hand landed on her arm ripping her from brooding, nearly causing her to snap at her friend, Sophia Wood.

"Relax," the girl held up her hand, "If you keep staring at him like that he may get the wrong idea."

"What," Kallen spluttered, "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, so you weren't eyeing him like a lion would eye a steak," she then giggled at Kallen's horrified expression, "oh, don't get me wrong, he looks absolutely delicious. I may just have to lapse a bit to have a piece of that. Just imagine that hair untied as he hovers over you, piercing you with those eyes, murmuring sweet words to you, as he introduces you to a world of pleasure you could never have possibly fathomed before, and the only thing on your lips is his name spoken like a mantra."

The purplette sighed, looking dreamy, even as Kallen blushed slightly at the imagery her friend was creating, "A girl would be the luckiest in the world with a man like that."

"Sophia," Kallen muttered weakly, her eyes darting to Julius for a second, before coming back to her.

"Oh ho, so you have been thinking of him like that," Sophia chortled, before taking a bite from chef's salad, "probably want to see if the drapes match the carpet."

"Sophia," Kallen squeaked, scandalized by what her friend was suggesting, and completely forgetting why she had been watching Julius Kingsley in the first place.

"Well, guess you're in luck," Sophia sing-songed, "he's coming over here," she then leaned in close to Kallen, "I bet he uses shampoo down there too."

"Sophia," Kallen's facial coloring now matching her hair, as she turned to meet the Julius, her eyes darting down _there_ for a moment, to her horror, before they quickly shot back up to him when he came to a stop in front of her.

"Lady Stadtfeld, Lady Wood," he greeted.

"Mister Kingsley," Sophia greeted, as Kallen kept her eyes firmly on him.

"My apologies, Lady Wood, but would you spare Lady Stadtfeld for a bit. I couldn't help but notice that the Lady may have some burdensome questions she may want to get off her chest," he stated apologetically, his left flexing and relaxing in a split second, though if one had paid close attention they would have noticed a minute roll of the wrist. Kallen blinked, wondering what it was that was causing her senses to warn her to be wary.

What Kallen did not notice though was Sophia's eyes glazing over for a second before she blinked, a smirk appearing on her face, "Sure, Mister Kingsley," she then leaned towards Kallen's ear, "Go get 'em, girl."

And with that, the two were left alone,with the rest of the cafeteria trying not to surreptitiously watch the two for various reasons, though they were failing miserably in that.

"Would you accompany me, m'lady?"

Scanning his expression for a few moments, she nodded, getting to her feet, then following him as he led her out of the cafeteria.

It took them a few minutes, but they eventually found themselves on the roof overlooking the academy grounds. Again, Kallen senses came alert, not knowing that the door behind them had become locked once it had closed.

Walking to the railing, Julius leaned against it, arms crossing, though his posture remained relax.

"So, feel free to ask what troubles your heart," he joked.

"Were you the one at Shinjuku," Kallen demanded, resisting the urge to march straight up to him and add her physical presence to the mix. She had a feeling if she did, it would end poorly. Still, that didn't stop her from fingering her purse knife.

"What is your gut telling you?"

Kallen blinked, momentarily taken aback by the answer as it was not the one she had expected. In fact, she had expected him to deny it categorically.

"Strange, isn't it?" he mused, looking out across the school. "Were you any other girl at this academy-well, almost any other girl-you'd be thrilled to be up here alone with me. I'm young, attractive, and charming - and if I go to Saint Ricardo, I'm certainly not poor either. But I worry you.

"It's not fear, no - I don't scare you. But you can feel it under your skin, can't you? You don't strike me as a hesitant person, but you're watching where I move, how I move, like I'm a wild animal you don't want to startle. It's the instinct that's never led you astray; the prickling in your bones that tells you go left, or this man is dangerous.

"You've relied on it your entire life. Never questioned it. Never wondered why you're just that little bit luckier than everyone else you've ever met. Maybe you don't even think it's luck - maybe you're just better at those split-second decisions that so many other people can't make.  
"Whatever it is, right now it's telling you that pulling that knife on me would be a mistake. It has been since the moment we met."

He turned to her, and smiled.

It was not a very nice smile.

"Like I said - strange, isn't it?"

"What are you," a pale Kallen found herself asking before it had even become a thought, her hand gripping the purse-knife now like it was a lifeline.

The smile softened, a look of understanding replacing that which

"That, Lady Stadtfeld, is the right question to ask. But the answer is much more complicated than you can possibly imagine at this moment."

He then strode towards her coming to a stop just inside her reach, but without changing his posture, maintaining a relaxed state that exudes supreme confidence.

"So tell me," he whispered, though to Kallen it seemed to resonate to her very soul, "what do _you_ want?"

* * *

 **RotF**

* * *

He really hated the sand.

That one thought dominated the mind of the child as he strode through the palace on his way to his destination. It wasn't very often that he wandered here, but in the case of this situation, he needed to see to it personally.

So it had been with the blessing of her brother that he had boarded on a 'black' transport and flown non-stop to the recently acquired Area 18. The former Middle East Federation had been planned to be conquered over two years ago, but delays had taken place as it had been decided that this would be the debut of Britannia's newest weapons.

Not Knightmares, though the 7th Generation Frames leaving the production line were bleeding-edge, no, it was an entirely new facet to warfare, one that proved the superiority of the Britannian people.

It was both the most public, yet best kept-secret of the Empire.

The door was opened before him by the guards stationed outside the room, and he was led inside to an ornate and extravagant study and bedroom. His eyes immediately went to to the desk where a woman with raven hair sat, leaning back in her seat, her cheeks flushed and eyes firmly locked on the bed. Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald also stood beside her, though it was obvious he wished to be anywhere but here.

Following her eyes, he found a pair of white-clad legs wildly thrashing over the edge of a bed, yet he could not see their owner past the curtain of brunette hair that covered everything, though from time to time he could see the thrashing of arms as whoever it was past that struggled, soft choking noises filling the air.

It was all he needed to see to know what was taking place, as those limbs gradually weakened their struggle, and then fell still a soft rattle filling the air, joined by a moan from the petite figure, as V.V. fought to hide a frown, knowing what had just taken place.

"Nunnally," Marianne vi Britannia spoke, her voice breathy, arousal readily evident in her tone, "we have a guest."

The brunette's head tilted up for a second, before its owner slowly crept off the body, revealing the vacant glazed over eyes of C.C. staring up to nothingness, as Nunnally vi Britannia's feet softly padded to the ground, her hair enveloping her nudity. The young woman was a spitting image of her mother at that age, the blossom of motherhood blooming into a woman who would easily ensnare any man that she ever

"Uncle Vincent," Nunnally greeted, making a move towards him before realizing her nudity and deciding better. She then strode over behind a room divider and began to get dressed, as C.C. suddenly gasped, her eyes losing their glaze as she filled her lungs that had been deprived of air previously as life returned to her. The limette slowly rose up, looking around for a few moments as the bruises around her neck began to fade. Realizing what was expected of her, she then walked over and retrieved fresh clothes for Nunnally, saying nothing, even as her golden eyes met V.V.'s for a second, before going back to what she was expected to do.

For a moment, V.V. felt a surge of pity for his fellow immortal, knowing just how the world had gone to hell for her after Lelouch's kidnapping. She had stayed by Marianne's side the entire time, even as the woman had descended into darkness, from both loss of Lelouch and Charles' urging as he realized just what Marianne may be able to do. She had stayed by her side in spite of all the horrors that had been inflicted upon her, to where now, she just silently took it, broken and a submissive, a toy for the depredations of the two women before him.

He almost felt bad for Dash Lamperouge….almost.

"So," Marianne drawled, fixing herself up in her seat, and "what brings you to the Middle East, Vincent. It must be pretty huge for you to leave the Directorate for anything, nowadays," her eyes narrowed, eyes lighting up in a soft glow eking out through narrowed eyes, "considering your job."

He grimaced. Lelouch's kidnapping nearly sixteen years ago had changed the entire power structure in the Empire. Where Marianne had been simply a consort to the Emperor previously, it had only taken the very brutal and public killings of three of her fellow consorts that had firmly established that Marianne _was_ the Empress, and no argument would be tolerated. Charles had likewise changed, developing a hard and unforgiving edge, as many had quickly found out.

The entire course of the Empire had changed with a single kidnapping. If Vincent had been told that two decades ago, he would have laughed. But now...now he actually worried, not just about the now indefinitely delayed Ragnarok Connection, but also the endgame. Would the world be a better place if they carried it out now?

He was slowly coming to the conclusion that it may just not be.

"I've spent the last two days trying to confirm the reports," he finally declared, taking a seat across from Marianne, "unfortunately, I have not been unable to confirm this report through empirical evidence, it is the first such occurrence in nearly sixteen years that we cannot reasonably explain or assign a conclusion to."

Marianne's breath hitched, expression something that he honestly had not seen in years, that of the the old Marianne that had been happy to be a mother, and provided him with just a modicum of hope against the insanity he had helped create as a weapon against the very person they were now talking about.

"Where," Marianne whispered.

"The occurrence took place in Shinjuku. Viceroy Calares stated that both he and his soldiers were suddenly unable to coordinate their attacks and were stricken by the sudden urge to flee."

Marianne snorted, "Figures the old man would hide amongst those savages. If he wasn't white, he'd have easily passed for one of those backwards Elevens."

He then reached into his pocket and retrieved an envelope and tossed it on her desk, "Then there is also this. It's grainy, but it was taken from one of the cameras on the edge of the ghetto. Only caught a glimpse, but…"

Marianne proceeded to open the envelope and dumped out a set of photos, taking one into hand and looking at a grainy photo taken from a distance of a man dressed completely in a black robe. The Empress stared at it for a few moments, before placing it down, standing up, and walking over to the window to look out, Nunnally finally coming out from behind the screen dressed in casual attire, as she walked over to take a look at the pictures.

"Mom," Nunnally asked, looking at her mother whose back was to them, "is it?"

It was unsaid as to what the question was, and Marianne stood there for what seemed like an eternity, simply staring out onto the palace grounds.

"Your Highness," Jeremiah asked quietly, fighting to keep the hope out of his voice.

And then the air changed, the smell of burnt ozone dominating the air, even as Marianne vi Britannia, the most powerful woman in the Britannian Empire stood there. Then, as suddenly as it had began, the smell disappeared, but there remained a tension in the air that Vincent found himself resisting the urge to struggle to breathe.

"I think it's time to visit Grandpa, Nunnally," Marianne finally growled, turning to meet the gaze of C.C., her eyes blazing the sigil of Geass, the sigil enveloped in sulfuric yellow, and Vincent had to fight to keep himself from flinching. Even now, after helping to cultivate this state of being in Marianne, he could not stop the visceral reaction of fear when staring into such an alien sight.

"Is big brother going to be there," Nunnally asked, her smile not what you would expect of a dutiful sister. No, it was more like a predator contemplating possible prey, with a heavy dose of something Vincent really did _NOT_ want to consider in the least.

"Oh, I have no doubt he will keep dear Lulu close."

As if a lightswitch had been flipped, Nunnally's eyes also light up with Geass, eyes darkening to the same sulfuric yellow of her matriarch, even as her expression morphed into something that only be considered as lascivious.

"Ohhh," she whimpered, her eyes lustful "If he's anything like grandpa, I can't wait to meet him." 

* * *

**Remember, VV, CC, and Charles do not have any guide to recreating what they have footage of when Revan marched through Order defenses. So, they had to reverse-engineer from scratch, so what you see here is going to be closer to the Dathomiri Nightsisters instead of the actual Sith, heavily dependent upon what can be ritualized and gathered up from relics, and texts, and whatnot. So expect rather ersatz means of acquiring power, in this case, the scene you saw with Nunnally, CC, and Marianne had reason, for mother and daughter. I'll be going into more detail in the next chapter or so what things they had discovered. But, to be honest, the techniques and rituals will be pretty damn dark. Both in purpose and intent.**


End file.
